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Nov
28 |
 I've spent the last 24 hours engaged in a mental pep rally, trying to get back to the gym post-flu, post-Thanksgiving, post-breakup, blah blah blah. It's not an easy feat I tell you, and I think I have on many occasions.
Spinning's at 7, cycling shoes in gym bag. CHECK. Extra towel, no, maybe two, you know how you sweat, CHECK. Refilled bottle of AquaFina, CHECK. Gum? Okay, that goes too. So I'm ready, first step done. What a good boy I am. I keep in mind the person who saw the three-year-old photo of me on my fridge not long ago and screeched, "And WHOOOOO is THAT? He's cute!" and use it to every reversed psychological advantage I can think of. Then, from another room I hear the TV and a woman's voice saying:
"But there have been many polls and scientific studies which prove a man's height is related to his success. The taller a man is, the more successful he is."
"Does that mean shorter men don't stand a chance?" asks another voice.
"That's about it." replies the woman.
That would account for a lot I'm afraid. Just kill me now.
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Nov
26 |
Brace yourselves for more Republican homosex scandal, this time though it could be Earth-shattering for the GOP, the party of Reagan and the 'Moral Majority' and, you know, 'Family Values'.
Several weeks ago Hustler Magazine owner Larry Flynt suggested he was working on breaking big time news about a high ranking U.S. Senator; Flynt is known for trolling for these types of scandals, particularly targeting Republican politicians; and while no such story has broken from the offices of Flynt's rag, several blogs and underground news sources, increasingly more valid with such things, are reporting U.S. Sen. Trent Lott's suspiciously-timed resignation on Monday has a lot to do with a D.C. rent boy Lott has allegedly kept for some time now.
The Mississippi Republican announced surprisingly on Monday he would resign by the end of the year, allegedly to take advantage of rule changes which would prevent him from taking a high-paid consulting gig for at least a year should he step-down AFTER January 1st. So, he's leaving early, or so he says. Rumors are growing however that Lott's decision may have less to do with getting a sweet gig out of office and more to do with a sweet thang he's had while serving as a senior Republican in the higher house of Congress.
At the heart of the rumors is Benjamin Nicholas, a sexy gay dude in D.C. rumored to be an 'escort', though Nicholas might prefer the term 'model'; but who knows?
I'll link to a couple of the reports here and while this is all still rumor and innuendo, it would be hardly shocking considering the genius for trouble so many in the Grand Old Party have been prone to the last few years. If proven true, it will be a shocking end to one of the most powerful former U.S. Senators and majority leaders in history. And we thought Lott just wanted early retirement.
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Nov
23 |
 How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December's here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
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Nov
22 |
 I'm thankful for too much to put into words. How about you?
For mom and dad and RJ and DE and Tom and Boudreaux; for Dean & Eric and that old man who helped me with directions that time I was lost in the Bronx. For my car and food and nice warm bed, for America and all her dysfunction and all those who inhabit her. For my health I take for granted and the blue sky I love so much I'm thankful.
For a land of opportunity and it's system of government which still, bravely declares its trust in God from it's coat of arms to it's legal tender. Who couldn't be greatful for all of that?
For having known Carlos and for having known love, for my camera and my neices and nephews and the endless amount of food I eat and resources that are so plentiful. I'm thankful for it all.
Most of all, for God and his heaven. and mercy. and grace. And for knowing no matter how dark the road may get, there is always time to chose another path. I'm so thankful.
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Nov
19 |
Autumnal homesickness and flavor nostalgia convinced me to take extreme action last week, attempt as perfect of a gumbo as I could make, with bachelor-like kitchen resources and less-than-perfect ingredients. And so I did, and I captured it for anyone who's bored enough to be interested or simply won't belive me.
It was a dry-run of sorts as I've threatened to make it for various new yankee friends in hopes of giving them a little taste of Southern-stewed love. The recipe is a combination of my sister's, my mom's and a few techniques and secret ingredients I learned from a crazy Cajun a few years back. The result was as close to a perfect chicken & smoked sausage gumbo as I could hope to achieve this side of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. Jealous, bitches?
(Click on Photos to Enlarge)
My one stew pot, bought many moons ago, finally put to use.
Sauteed all the veggies...onion, fresh garlic, celery hearts, shallots..
Smoked sausage & chicken stock. Yeah, the chicken broth = MY idea.
This is called 'roux'.. Oil + flour + a lot of stirring and slightly burning equals 'Roux'.
And this is what it looks like when you finish making it and set it aside. Nasty, right? But it makes up for the look.
I did something decidedly NOT Cajun OR southern.. I experimented with "draining" the roux.. And look, it worked. It got rid of a lot of excess oil. The rest was later skimmed-out during the simmah.. Yeah, that's right, the SIMMAH..
Simmah....
Simmah sum mo'....
Supper time! It isn't mom's or RJ's or home, but it's about as close to perfection as I could get, from 1,784 miles away.
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Nov
19 |
Sadly, no weapons of mass destruction found there either; So which one's the turkey?
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Nov
14 |
 I've been invited by neighbors to join them at a dear friend's house for Thanksgiving dinner next week. These same friends have invited me before and I've always, as is habit graciously declined. I'm convinced I've grown anxiety issues when it comes to traveling or visiting people.
I couldn't keep saying "no", seriously, so I finally accepted. Then came waves of worries: What do I wear and what should I bring? I don't cook and don't really know how to. I'm the single guy in the bunch and single guys usually get away with bringing things like chips and paper plates to these types of things. Everybody's got one of those bachelor uncles or single guy friends they remember from childhood who'd come over at holidays, not having any family of his own near by. At my house, it would sometimes be my creepy Uncle Johnny (I think that's his name. He's distant.) In my 9 year old mind, I'd ridicule him and shred him like a bitchy gossip columnist for never bringing anything aside from napkins or a box of chocolates. "UNACCEPTABLE! When I grow up, I'll bring tasteful gift baskets for my host and a gourmet dish prepared by my own cook." Yeah, I was 9.
So I'm thinking something on the stove top would be simple enough, especially since my oven has never been turned-on. I use it to store some of those old clothes I was talking about yesterday. I'm serious. But I have to bring something and it worries me to a cold sweat.
Darryll, my neighbor said "Oh just some wine or chips." I said "NO! I insist. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I shouldn't bring anything. So tell me what I can bring. A vegetable maybe?" Safe enough. "Well, you can bring some asparagus if you'd like and I can tell you how to cook it if you have problems..." "Asparagus? Eh, okay."
Well, I have no idea what asparagus is aside from a vegetable. I couldn't remember if it's the white lumpy thing that looks warts or the long green things. I knew it was one of them. I had to look it up on Google. Only now, I have no idea how to cook such vile weeds. I'm thinking of just bringing a bag of Tostitos and some salsa
That's all..
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Nov
13 |
 I've learned to hate the New England winters. I'm serious. Not the first-new-heavy-snow part of winter. Or the nor'easter-snow-storm-everybody-stay-inside-today parts. I hate the LONG part. The part that comes after Christmas when everyone is back to their daily routines. The part where you think: "Okay, this shit has gone on long enough. I'm ready for spring time and air condition." That typically hits me around February 1st because where I come from, and I'm not making this up, we're in shorts and Birkenstocks by Valentine's Day. No, really. If you don't believe me, ask somebody who lives west of Georgia and south of Tennessee.
 I was lucky enough to be invited to this dinner party last night; two gorgeous women and a guy with a beautiful Husky dog. Everyone had their hounds except me; seven of us in all. Boudreaux stayed home, prior plans. Steak tips and a gourmet salad and some fancy French torte for desert. Before dinner there was talk of a weekend shopping expedition by one of the girls and a gentleman friend, talk then turned to the issue of a $400 shirt and some very expensive, very hip clothes at one of the shops at The Natick Collection. For a while, I zoned out thinking of the expensive threads in my own closet which haven't been worn in a while and many never worn at all. Last winter in fact, during one of those long ice days, I pulled out two trash bags full of clothes, two-thirds with tags still on them, disgusted with myself, and put them all out for the trash pickers to pick clean. But I have more still in there, two shirts specifically which put me back over $100 each. Never worn and still on the hangars they came home on from the tailor's shop. Dusty and creased where the hanger and time has kept them; my purchase of them even then being delusional, thinking I'd be in them in no time at all. It's now been two years or more and I think it's time those shirts come out of my closet along with the lamb's skin leather jacket which has yet to see the light of day, a $160 pair of pants from a pretentious shop in PTown and other things like some gym shirts and cycling shorts and lifting gloves; the later must be put to use immediately because those shirts, and I'm totally serious, will be hand-washed, and pressed and set in my bedroom to be worn no later than May 1st, 2008.
I'm totally not kidding. It's been too long and Tom's promised me a trip to Europe if I'm successful, haven't you pumpkin?
The End.
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Nov
9 |
 Just when you thought the world condition couldn't get any worse comes news of Disneyland's iconic Small World boat ride suffering from an obvious signs of the times, even if Disney says it a'int so.
The L.A. Times reports that the California theme park is "upgrading" the canal that those little boats float down in order to 'deepen the channel', and while the park says it has nothing to do with the number of fat tourists taking to the less-than-high seas of Disneyland, it's hard not to argue the reasons are for just that. I mean, it's a known fact that the average American is something like 40lbs heavier now than we were back in the say 1960s, the era of slim business suits, loungewear and housewives still wearing pearls and hourglass-shaped A dresses.
The park plans to add at least an inch in depth to the water channel and upgrade to more buoyant boats.
"If these boats get stuck, they have to send someone back in there to lighten the load on the boat," said MiceAge site owner AL Lutz according to the Times. Lutz reportedly has been on the ride when a guest or two was asked to disembark.
"They've even built a platform next to that [Mounties] curve because they've had so many problems."
But Disney officials say the boats get stuck because "layers and layers" of fiberglass have built up where maintenance teams have patched and re-patched problem areas.
Patches of fiberglass? Then why not just replace the boats themselves without the massive remodel? Or, perhaps Disney, being a global omnimedia leader, should use its influence to call us out for what we are, a nation of fatty fats who have become so wide and thick, we're sinking boats...
But would the brutal honesty get us off the sofa, away from the computers and on the treadmill? Fat chance.
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Nov
7 |
 Fall temperatures always give me an extra bounce to my stride and that was the case this morning. I'm trying to get back on schedule with the dog's morning routine and my own. Crisp air and the smell of slightly decaying leaves always lightens my mood, but the leaves aren't the only thing falling; so is the U.S. Dollar and it's hard to ignore.
Again today we're given news, albeit second and third-page news of the U.S. Dollar hitting a new low, and oil prices hitting a brand-spanking-new high: $100 per barrel by the end of today quite possibly. Shit, by the time I finish writing this drivel we may have hit it. It's the dirty little secret that isn't so secret and not enough of us or our mass media are talking about it.
I don't necessarily march in lockstep panic over all the sociopolitical catch topics 'they' like to ruffle our feathers over, but if you aren't paying attention to what's going on, you're a blind lamb. Its okay, I'll forgive, just try to keep up from here on out, 'k?
At this point, one U.S. Dollar is almost equal to that of the Canadian Dollar, and I won't even compare it to the Euro or British Pound. Let's just say Europe will have a LOT less Americans lingering about, including yours truly. And I'd SO hoped Tom would be giving me that European tour for my upcoming 40th. Damn the luck.
The Bush Administration's spin is that the weakening is good for U.S. exports; again Bush proves his concern is not for the general welfare of the American people and our overall economic health, but to help big business, REALLY big business make a few extra bucks at the expense of driving our currency into a second-tier status.
My bigger concern is that the average man on the street is blissfully unaware of this and as someone else questioned this morning during an online discussion, how long will this go on before the average American wakes-up and realizes what's happened? Why are we completely blind to it? Because we have our own, greater personal worries? Is the light bill hard to pay? Trouble in the relationship? Rent late? We can't sacrifice our eye on what's going on with the country as a whole simply because daily life is keeping us preoccupied.
I would rant about the soon-to-be $4.00 per gallon gas prices but I'm out of gas and have calls to make. Just remember, there's a dirty word to call all of this which hasn't been spoken in decades: Recession..
Is anyone listening?
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Nov
6 |
 So, I'm doing okay today. How are you? Today is cloudy with rain. Not the regular kind of rain but the sloppy kind. The kind that's misty and just keeps coming down. The kind that's just enough to force you to wear a slicker or hold an umbrella while you're also trying to sip coffee from your go-cup while simultaneously holding the dog's leash and somehow bending over to collect his poop in the poop bag rain. Otherwise, things are okay considering the last few weeks.
It's days like this that make it even harder to work from home, forced or by choice, not just because of the rain and that my workspace isn't bathed in the usual sunlight I need; but because those sugarless generic Oreos I got this weekend are searing a hole into my brain begging me to rip the bag open. I obliged the voices in my head and decided to have one after my oatmeal breakfast. Okay, three. Sadly, they do not taste like Oreo.
I've been trying to get back to the gym after the disastrous hiatus but the thought of walking in gives me mini panic attacks. I'm not sure why. For someone who used to walk into a weight room with the tenacity of a roided baseball player, the prospect of getting back to it is loathsome and frightening. I can confront the giant crazy guy who allows his dog to crap next to my building, and without the slightest hesitation...but the gym... HOW? I break out into a sweat just thinking of it...
And then I'm all like, Oh shut-up and go burn the fat off. Drama queen.
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Nov
3 |
 45mph winds and flooding streets!! That's what our lame-ass weather bunny screamed last night while warning of the remnants of tropical storm Noel. So we braced. It's chilly and raw today but I've yet to see trees falling down and, if it weren't for the big blob on the satellite photo, this might be just another rainy Fall New England Saturday.
I'm reading one of my favorite blogs, TheSouthEndIsOver, though my neighbor isn't very good with keeping up with the postings, or, maybe he too has been run out of town from the legions of mommies and SUV strollers and easily offended hausfrau which now infest a once hip and happy gayborhood. It's something to do I suppose and venturing out in the sloppy drizzle for a movie or photo-snapping just isn't worth it.
The dog sleeps in a little brown and gold ball of fur and I'm thinking most about my mom and dad today and needing desperately to hold my mother's hand while she talks to me in a silly baby voice, asking what I want for dinner.
Yep, just another rainy, Fall day at my house.
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Websites and their upkeep don't come cheap and a buck here or there really helps.
Thanks for your support!
-JD
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